Costume Party
by Qweb
Summary: Steve Rogers and the rogue Avengers have been chased away from a humanitarian mission. Steve is tired, so tired he doesn't know what day it is or what country he's in, but he can trust Natasha. She always has a plan. Sometimes it's a party plan.


**Costume Party**

Steve Rogers rolled his head to look out the window of the quinjet as the rogue Avengers ran away from trouble. He rubbed his eyes.

He was tired. So tired.

He, Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanoff and Wanda Maximoff had been working hard in mud and filth to rescue flood victims. Every time rescuers had a handle on the evacuations, another wave of storms would hit and another formerly safe section of the island nation would find itself underwater.

This was not an important enough catastrophe for Ross to send the official Avengers — though a stream of Stark Industries planes kept bringing supplies. But the "rogue" Avengers had been on the scene from the first.

They had worked alongside the first responders, who had certainly recognized the team but had carefully said nothing. Eventually, however, an innocent child recognized the "Captain of America" and rhapsodized about him rescuing her within hearing of the late arriving military responders.

Immediately it became more important for the prestige of the small country to capture the Avengers than to rescue the poor and not very important flood victims.

A local police officer, who had been working with the Avengers for days, beat the military to the camp where the team was taking an hour to clean up and eat before getting back to work.

As the quinjet passed over the flooded area, Steve could see families huddled on their roofs surrounded by troubled waters. Families he wasn't going to be able to help because of politics.

Steve felt sick at abandoning the victims, but Natasha had bullied him onto the plane, pointing out that they wouldn't be able to rescue anyone if they were locked up. By leaving, the Avengers removed the distraction so the military could get on with its mercy work.

Steve knew it was true, but the reality depressed him. He let Nat and Sam organize their escape while he brooded. He'd been pushing himself hard for days. The serum allowed him to go days without sleeping, even longer with brief catnaps, but now, sitting in the plane with nothing to do, it was all catching up with him.

"At least we had a chance to shower first," Sam commented, standing and stretching, as he left the copilot's seat. He looked at Steve's glum expression.

"You should get some sleep," Natasha said, looking back from the pilot's seat.

"Later."

"Now would be better," Sam said neutrally, careful not to push and activate Steve's legendary stubbornness.

"There's nothing you can do right now," Natasha pointed out.

"Let Nat take charge," Sam coaxed. "She's best at keeping us in hiding anyway."

"I've got just the place for us to go right now," Natasha confirmed.

Wanda gave Steve a mental nudge. She wouldn't misuse her powers to force him to sleep, but she could remind him how good it felt to rest.

Steve gave her a look. He knew what she had done, but she was right. They all were right. He was too tired to think straight.

"All right. You talked me into it," Steve said with a touch of humor.

Sam and Wanda high-fived, which made Steve roll his eyes.

He reclined his chair and closed his eyes, not even opening them when Wanda put a blanket over him. With a soldier's discipline, Steve cleared his mind and fell asleep.

Once the super soldier was asleep in a safe place with friends to keep watch, he slept deeply, making up for all the time awake. He didn't stir when the quinjet arrived at its destination. He didn't stir when Wanda floated him out of his seat and wafted him through the still, dark night to Natasha's safe house. He didn't stir when she carefully laid him on a rock hard bunk (just the way he liked it) and left him to sleep.

* * *

He woke to a thump on the door.

"Get up, Rogers. You're missing everything," Natasha ordered.

Steve had lost track of the days and had no idea when or where he was. He was in a plain, bare room with weak morning sunlight peering through the window and his duffle bag shoved in the corner. That's all he knew.

"What could I possibly be missing?" Steve asked, voice rusty with sleep.

"Breakfast for one thing," Natasha answered. "Hope you're decent," she added, before barging straight in. Since Steve was still in his clothes from the day before (or was it two days before?), that wasn't an issue.

Natasha shook her head at him. "Get up, take a shower and get dressed," she ordered. "We eat in 20 minutes. But first, someone wants to say hi." She waggled one of the Wakandan secure communicators at him. This one looked like a cell phone rather than a decorative bracelet.

A familiar pale face with long dark hair greeted him.

"Buck! How are you feeling?" Steve asked, worried that his friend was calling to tell him about a setback.

"Good," Bucky answered enthusiastically. "The princess' treatments are really paying off. I feel almost like my old self."

"That's great." Steve was relieved. He lay back on his bed and regarded his old friend. "So, no problems?"

"Nah, I didn't call to talk about me. I called to talk about you." Bucky Barnes reached off screen and pulled back a spitting sparkler. "Happy birthday, punk!"

Steve thunked his head back on the pillow. "Is it the fourth? I'd lost track of the days," Steve confessed.

"Must be because you're getting old," Bucky said sagely. "Happy 100th, pal."

"You'll always be older than me," Steve jibed. "Wonder what Dr. Randall would say now. He told my ma I'd never live past 6."

"Well, he's long dead and you're still going strong," Bucky said. "I think you got the last laugh."

Steve chuckled.

"Now you'd better get up and get dressed," Bucky said. "Romanoff told me there's a special birthday breakfast planned. Breakfast sausage casserole with a whole pan just for you."

Steve's mouth began to water. He hadn't eaten for at least 24 hours, maybe 36. He wiped his mouth. Bucky saw it and laughed. "Yeah, you go get ready and we'll talk more later."

"OK." Steve heaved himself out of bed as Bucky again said "Happy birthday!" and signed off.

Steve took a hasty shower and dressed in the last clean outfit in his duffel bag, black jeans and a blue polo shirt. It was the nicest outfit he'd brought with him, because he hadn't been wearing his good clothes to wade in the muck.

By now he could smell food, eggs, sausage and pancakes. He hurried out the door, braced for birthday wishes, but he didn't expect. "Happy birthday, punk. Told you we'd talk later," Bucky said with a smirk, grabbing Steve in a one-armed hug.

"Buck!" Steve buried his face in Bucky's shoulder and hugged for all he was worth.

Steve's friends, including T'Challa and Shuri, grinned as they watched. Even T'Challa's usually stern body guards were failing to hide smiles.

Steve pulled away, unashamed of the tears in his eyes. Bucky looked good. He had put on weight and had more color in his face. "You look good," Steve said.

"All right, enough sentiment, food's ready," Natasha announced, as Sam took two casserole dishes out of the upper oven. Melted cheese was gooey on top of the egg, spinach and sausage mixture. Wanda took stacks of pancakes from the warm lower oven.

Pretty soon everyone was digging in to a breakfast feast fit for a 100th birthday.

"How'd you get here?" Steve asked Bucky. "I mean, naturally T'Challa brought you but … I don't know what I mean," he confessed.

"We didn't want you to be alone on such a milestone birthday," T'Challa said. "You came to Bucky for his, so we brought him to you for yours."

"I don't even know where I am," Steve confessed. "I was that tired."

"We're in Denmark," Wanda said.

"Why Denmark?"

Sam grinned broadly. "Because they have the biggest Fourth of July celebration outside the U.S.," he said proudly, as if he hadn't just learned that fact from Natasha.

"Ribildfesten," Natasha said. "A festival at Rebild National Park, Denmark's first national park. In the 1870s, a lot of Danes moved to the United States. A Danish-American friendship organization bought 140 acres in Denmark and gave it to the king, with the stipulation that the park serve as a place where the public can celebrate America's Independence Day."

Shuri admired Natasha's depth of knowledge. The agent shrugged and tossed a trifold paper on the table. "It's all in the brochure," she said modestly. "But I have been here before. This is one of Clint's safe houses. He came here to celebrate Fourth of July a couple of years when he was persona non grata in the U.S."

Shuri started to ask why, but a stern look from her brother caused her to politely swallow her questions.

"Natasha says they have all the activities," Wanda said enthusiastically. She had only been able to celebrate one Fourth in the U.S., but she had plunged deeply into the spirit of it. "There's a parade, concert, fireworks, exhibits." She and Shuri were bouncing in excitement like teenagers.

"And lots of beer, because it is Denmark," Sam said.

"We're going to celebrate your birthday in style, Steve," Bucky said in satisfaction.

"Is it safe?" Steve asked Natasha, though he was pretty sure she wouldn't have arranged all this if she didn't have a plan.

"For one thing, though Denmark signed the Accords, the country is waiting for a referendum to actually ratify the treaty," T'Challa said.

"And judging by the polls, ratification does not look likely," Sam added.

"So no one will be rushing to arrest us," Wanda said.

Natasha had gone to a trunk that Steve had noticed in the quinjet. "Besides, we'll have disguises," the spy said, sweeping a costume out of the trunk with a magician's flourish.

Steve blinked at the familiar blue, red and white costume complete with cowl and tights.

"You expect me to wear that?" he exclaimed, gesturing at the Captain America costume.

"Of course not, this is for Sam," Natasha said.

The black man grinned and pulled on the top over his T-shirt. It was padded around the middle, so Sam looked a little pudgy in it.

"The cowl also has padding to change the shape of your face," Natasha said. Sam picked up the cardboard and aluminum foil shield and grinned even wider. "Perfect," he said.

For Steve, Natasha had an Uncle Sam costume, with white whiskers and chin beard and a nose piece to make it beaky. It came with platform shoes that made the already tall man seem to be on stilts. They were surprisingly comfortable once he got used to them.

"You had these costumes all ready," Steve accused Natasha. "How long have you had this planned?"

"Months," she confessed. "But I thought it was going to go to waste when the floods kept coming. I'm sorry we got chased out, but I'm not sorry we'll get to celebrate your 100th birthday having fun."

Wanda had a Betsy Ross outfit with a cap covering her red hair and a thirteen-star flag she wore like a shawl. Proving she wasn't just messing with her friends, Natasha had a Statue of Liberty costume with drapery to hide her figure and a spiked hat/mask that covered her upper face. Her chin was painted green to match. Her torch was solid wood.

"Excellent as a billy club if necessary," Bucky said wisely. He had a George Washington costume with powdered wig hiding his dark hair. He wore his Wakandan arm, because George would look more conspicuous with only one arm.

Shuri had brought her own costume, that of a slave woman.

"Harriet Tubman," Steve guessed.

"Sojourner Truth," Shuri corrected. "She had the cooler name. Though I'm not sure why I'm celebrating a colonizer's holiday," she teased.

"You're celebrating the day we broke away from the colonizers," Bucky corrected.

"And became colonizers of our own," Steve pointed out, gesturing at the Indian chief costume T'Challa was considering. Bucky nodded acceptance.

Ultimately, T'Challa decided to eschew a costume and go with a colorful hat and shirt and a giant pair of sunglasses that covered most of his face. Though they rolled their eyes, the Dora Milaje donned red, white and blue wigs and carried weaponry concealed in jewelry and umbrellas.

"Though, for a change, it's not expected to rain," Natasha said.

After everyone donned their costumes, Steve shook his head. "We're going to attract a lot of attention," he pointed out. "People will take pictures and post them online. Are you sure that won't cause trouble?"

"Don't worry," Wanda said confidently. "I have friends."

"Quit worrying," Sam said, rubbing his hands in anticipation. "Beer and hotdogs and Danish pastries. Let's go have some fun."

* * *

The safe house was (purposely) within walking distance of the national park, because Clint liked the usually quiet woods and the annual party.

The costumed group did attract a lot of attention, with many people taking photos and requesting selfies. "Captain America" got many back slaps and fist bumps, proving Sam's information about the polls.

The group partied all day, enjoying the music and the food and the fireworks finale. Steve had to admit it was a better 100th birthday than he had ever imagined.

In New York, facial recognition software pinged on a photo of Wanda in her Betsy Ross outfit. Mentally accessing the system, Vision smiled to see the image, then he adjusted the facial recognition program to make the rogue Avengers unrecognizable.

Vision's mental scrapbook added two photos that day, one of Wanda and one of the whole group of his friends in their patriotic costumes.

"Happy birthday, captain," he said to himself. "And many happy returns."

* * *

 _A/N: For the purposes of this story, the events of Infinity War take place after July 4, because I wanted Cap to have a happy 100_ _th_ _birthday._

 _I still don't know if I'll get back to posting regularly, but I wanted to do something for this milestone birthday. I hope to get back to Leslie soon. Happy holiday to anyone that celebrates, in the U.S. or in Denmark!_


End file.
